


Executive Privilege

by ruffaled



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Best Friends, Bottom Tony Stark, Dating, Don't copy to another site, Ironhusbands, James "Rhodey" Rhodes & Tony Stark Friendship, M/M, POV James "Rhodey" Rhodes, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, The only redeeming thing about this fic is President Rhodes, Tony Stark Feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-05
Updated: 2019-11-05
Packaged: 2021-01-23 15:26:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21322414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ruffaled/pseuds/ruffaled
Summary: Tony needs to see President Rhodes. It’s a matter of national security.(there's no plot, none whatsoever)
Relationships: James "Rhodey" Rhodes & Tony Stark, James "Rhodey" Rhodes/Tony Stark
Comments: 6
Kudos: 191





	Executive Privilege

**Author's Note:**

> [@van-dyne](http://van-dyne.tumblr.com) wanted President Rhodes and Tony having sex at the Oval Office. [@robertdowneyjjr](http://robertdowneyjjr.tumblr.com) very helpfully beta-ed this so that it isn’t complete garbage.

Tony’s been on the American intelligence community’s radar since he hacked the Pentagon’s internal systems on a dare at 15, forcing them to _ finally _ implement a Stark Industries software upgrade. Pleased with his efforts, his father, Howard, bought him a nice vacation in Lyon. 

When Stark Industries won the contract to become Uncle Sam’s official weapons’ supplier, under Tony’s leadership, the CIA installed a backdoor on his computer—the incompetent underhandedness reeked of a young, fresh-out-of-college analyst who thought they struck gold by bugging Tony Stark. He let J.A.R.V.I.S humour them for almost a year before the intelligence community’s best and brightest figured out all of the information they had been gleaning from his systems were false. 

“You know, Honeybear,” Tony said, a little breathless from the constant, unforgiving assault on his senses. “This isn’t how I imagined reacquainting myself with your buddies at the CIA.” His voice cracked and whatever else he planned to say dissolve into a lewd moan. 

Bent double over a polished mahogany desk, its hard edges digging into his pliant hips, Tony’s hands searched for purchase, something to grab hold of and anchor himself against the wanton, breathtaking pleasure lighting up his nerve endings, his face pressed flat on the empty tabletop. His 900-dollar designer shirt was bunched up over his chest, his sweat-drenched skin flushed red, and the branded dress pants pooled in a heap around his ankles; Tony’s usually immaculate hair fell into total disarray as taut muscles spasmed with every hard grind—he looked _ wrecked _, a sharp contrast to the sense of order permeating the empty, oval room. 

***

Like most things in life, Tony didn’t _ mean _ to fly out to D.C. on a whim and intrude upon the White House and insist to the administration staff that he needed to see President Rhodes, even if the latter was in the middle of an important diplomatic briefing ahead of a state visit to Australia. “It’s a matter of national security,” Tony explained to the Harvard-educated, stuffy Chief of Staff, whose irritable expression told him everything he needed to know about how Rhodey’s entourage felt about him. No doubt, his best friend must’ve sat through a dozen security briefings with the CIA and the Secret Service, each one of them urging him to reconsider his friendship with an eccentric billionaire and part-time superhero. 

To state his case more emphatically, Tony flashed a salacious smile that forced Mr Chief of Staff to exit the waiting room. Within ten minutes, he was ushered into the Oval Office, where Rhodey waited for him with a closed-off, annoyed look. “We’ll resume the meeting at 4, sir,” Mr Chief said, shutting the door behind Tony. 

Before Tony opened his mouth, Rhodey held up a hand; the predatory hunger in his eyes did most of the talking. “Strip,” came the curt, firm order. 

A small, logical part of Tony tried to object because even _ he _ knew the dangers of them both getting caught with their pants down by the beefy, expressionless secret service guys standing outside. But the rest of him, teeming with untamed, unfulfilled chaotic energy, had a mind of its own. He untucked his shirt and undid his buckle when Rhodey beckoned him closer until Tony stood directly in front of his best friend, who leaned back in a large leather chair. 

“Kneel,” Rhodey said, unusually reticent, but his eyes and the tent in his pants betrayed his arousal. “Well, don’t just wait for an invitation. Go on, do what you came here to do.” 

Tony tried to protest, but Rhodey cut him off. 

“Don’t even try to deny it. I’m lucky Mr Millman’s professors at Tufts drilled into him the art of discretion, otherwise, we’d have quite the scandal on hand.” 

_ Huh. So, Mr Chief of Staff wasn’t an uptight Ivy, but, still, the dirty looks were obnoxious _, Tony reflected. 

He smacked his lips and reached for Rhodey’s zippers. It’s been months since he went down on his best friend, his _ boyfriend _, because the commute between the Avengers headquarters and the White House turned out to be too much of an inconvenience for a quick fuck. He relished running his tongue over Rhodey’s erection, tasting the saltiness around the slit before a pair of hands pushed his head down with gentle firmness. Tony felt the bulbous tip graze the back of his throat, salivating at the idea of tasting his lover after months of quick tugs in the shower or before bed. Taking Rhodey’s erection deeper, he swallowed around the length, earning a well-deserved sharp intake of breath and a keening sob. 

“Fuck, Tones…” 

_ That’s the plan, Mr President _, Tony thought, giving in to the ravenous desire to taste every inch of Rhodey’s cock, from shaft to the tip. 

***

As far as rough fucks went, this had to be the hottest one, Tony thought. Mostly, because the idea of a bunch of burly men bursting in through the closed door, guns drawn, thinking the most powerful man in the country was in trouble, only to find him buried balls deep in Tony’s ass, made him tremble. 

"Not that I have any complaints here because, _ damn _, honeybear, this dick is just as good as I remember from..." Tony's words dissolved into a long, drawn-out moan as the thick, large cock drilled into his ass, hard, relentless, and with an express purpose of reducing him into a sobbing, incoherent mess. He was halfway there, the forceful pounding and the constant assault on his prostate leaving his skin, feverish, and his paper-thin resolve, crumbling. His own erection rubbed and glided against the smooth, polished wood, the constant friction keeping him in a state of perpetual ecstasy. "Please, Rhodey. I need...need—"

Above him, Rhodey growled and leaned over Tony’s back, biting down on his shoulder, pulling a loud, agonized wail from him. “What? Use your words, Tones. If you can’t, then I’m going to stop fucking you right now and leave you like this and ask Secret Service to escort you out, you. Insufferable. Infuriating. _ Cocktease _.” Rhodey punctuated each word with a thrust that pushed Tony further up the desk, making his toes curl, and his eyes rolled to the back of his head. 

Tony let out a string of expletive-filled screams because, really, _ fuck _ the Secret Service outside, fuck the stuffy advisers Rhodey sent away to lunch early, and definitely fuck Mr Non-Harvard for daring to try and deny him face time with _ his _ Platypus. “Mr President, _ please _ . Please, sir, I need you. I need your cock, sir, been craving it for so long. Just, please, please give it to me, I’ll do anything you want, sir, _ anything _ , but please don’t stop. Fuck me harder, Mr President—oh god, yes, yes, like that, oh _ fuck _…” Tony’s voice broke, so did his brain, leaving him a drooling, panting mess on the desk. 

One of Rhodey’s hands snaked around Tony’s hips, the other held his neck down in place; he set an almost inhuman pace, in the way he plunged into Tony’s tight, warm channel, withdrawing till only the tip remained buried before ramming in again and again and again—in his desperation to be fucked, Tony had _ insisted _ they make do with spit because the idea of waiting any longer in their search for lube sounded ludicrous to the inventor. 

The pain and discomfort had eventually given way to a bone-deep satisfaction of feeling Rhodey’s cock inside him, after months of longing for it; and, Tony wasn’t about to admit out loud that he had spent a good part of the journey from New York in his jet with three lubed fingers up his ass as he prepared to be ravished by his Platypus. 

Tony trembled. He felt Rhodey press his forehead into his back as the consuming, heart-pounding smack of skin-on-skin left him gasping for air. Drops of sweat fell on the wooden surface and Tony couldn’t tell if they were his, or Rhodey’s, but he noticed the tell-tale signs of his boyfriend’s fading composure—Rhodey’s moves turned frantic, delirious, as his dry, calloused fingers squeezed Tony’s cheeks.

“You’re getting more daring, baby,” Rhodey said, nipping at Tony’s earlobe. “Dropping in unexpectedly like that, being so _ damn _ mouthy with my staff, flirting with me at work. Is this what you’ve been hoping for? You wanted to get fucked in the Oval Office, darling?” His hand slipped down from Tony’s hips and gripped his leaking cock, drawing a debauched moan from Tony. “Well, answer me.” 

Tony whimpered and nodded. 

“Unbelievable,” Rhodey said, his voice barely louder than a whisper. “What would people say? What would the team say when they find out how needy you become when I put my cock inside you?” Rhodey tightened his hold over Tony’s throbbing erection, the pre-come leaking onto his hand making the glide easier. “Go on, you know what to do. Get yourself off.” 

In his eagerness, Tony didn’t need to be told twice as his hips moved on their own, pushing into the tight hold of Rhodey’s hand and then pulling back to impale himself on the stiff cock buried in his ass. He set a quick, punishing rhythm, rocking back and forth until his muscles tensed up and pushed him over the edge. Tony came with a shout, coating the polished wood with his semen while some of it spilt on Rhodey’s hand. 

“Good boy,” Rhodey said, kissing his temple and held up his soiled hand up. Without being told, Tony licked his fingers clean and said in a gruff but satiated voice, “Thank you, Mr President. Thank you, sir.” 

“My turn.” Rhodey held Tony down and plunged into him, repeatedly, assailing his boyfriend’s oversensitive body, drawing soft whimpers. He lasted only a few moments longer, muttering into Tony’s ears just how good he felt under him, around him, until Rhodey stilled his hips, spilling inside Tony with a needy, drawn-out moan. “_ Fuck, _ baby. I love you,” he groaned, nuzzling into Tony’s neck. 

They stayed idle, boneless, leaning over the desk and not trusting their legs to keep them upright. With some reluctance, Rhodey pulled out and they cleaned up in silence—the small, self-satisfied smirk on Tony’s face morphed into a frown as he felt the dampness spread inside his pants. “Well, all of_ that’s _ gonna come out and make a mess. You owe me a new pair of boxers, Platypus.” 

Rhodey rolled his eyes, crashing his lips against Tony’s; he wrapped the other man into a firm embrace and said, “I missed you.” 

Tony’s grinned. “I missed you, too, Mr President. I love it when you give me good dick and show me my place, _ sir _. I’ll let you get back to your presidential stuff.” He moved to leave when Rhodey caught his wrist. 

“Where do you think you’re going, Mr Stark? I didn’t dismiss you. No, you will not leave the premises, I have _ plans _ for you this evening.” 

Tony’s eyes darkened—well, _ fuck _, it must be his birthday. 

“Ask for Brad outside. He’s hard to miss; think Rogers, but somehow _ beefier _ . He’ll escort you to my residence, where you’re going to wait until I’m done with my day. You will _ not _ touch yourself, you won’t relieve yourself, and you are going to prepare yourself for me. Do you understand?” 

Tony nodded and straightened up. With his chest puffed out, he said in a semi-serious tone, “Sir, it’s my patriotic duty to be of service to you.”

“Oh fuck off, Tones,” Rhodey said, biting back the peal of laughter that threatened to erupt as he watched Tony give a full salute and limp out of the room. The Secret Service was about to have a field day with the White House’s nuisance #1. 

\--FIN--

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on Tumblr at [@iloveyou-3000](http://iloveyou-3000.tumblr.com). All mistakes are mine.


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